


The Eve

by etherimaginary



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: ? maybe idk, Demon!AU, Demon!Baekhyun, Demons, Fluff, Human!Chanyeol, Incubus!Jongin, Jongin is a side character there is no sex in this fic lol, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-01 16:34:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12708750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etherimaginary/pseuds/etherimaginary
Summary: In which Baekhyun is a demon, Chanyeol is the next thing on the menu, and things, inevitably, happen.





	1. Sound

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for my friend Aditi!!!! Here are some things you should know  
> 1) I'm actually not done writing this. I have one and a half chapters to go, but I figure if I post every week I'll have enough time to finish (hopefully!!! Comments will speed up the process uwu)  
> 2) I haven't even decided on the ending yet. We'll see if I want it to be happy or evil  
> 3) There will be no frickle frackle in this fic. I know you see the mature rating. I put that there for language and possiiiibbllyyyy violence later on  
> 4) I consider this less of a chapter and more of an intro? its deffs shorter than the other chapters  
> 5) This goes for the whole fic rather than just this chapter; If you think I'm foreshadowing something, I probably am

When one hears the word ‘demon’, the first thoughts that come to mind are black, hideous creatures with fangs and horns, foaming at the mouth as their claws rake into the ground in the desperate attempt to get closer to you. What they did once they got there varied from species to species, whether it be feasting on your heart or draining your soul via a wicked blowjob. However, what the myths and tales fail to mention is that, as humans evolved their demons did as well, and as the less apt race grew to be wary of the creatures that lurked shadows, the demons had to adapt to a life more inconspicuous. They blended with the new-found world until they were once more nothing but lore, creatures that didn’t dare step foot on earth. The dark beasts of the old ages were few and far in between, most hiding in remote forests and mountains caves, eating whatever goat or squirrel crossed their path. They were too stuck in the ways of their ancestors, too stubborn to change into the life under the sun. They were the demons that humans made mockery of in movies, the CGI of even the highest regarded production companies dwarfed by the totality of the actual brutes. 

Baekhyun, however, was not like the Ancients of the forests and mountains. He had watched mankind flourish from villages to cities, from carriages to cars, and from abstinence to clubs which reeked of sweat, lust, and the mingling scent of questionably unidentifiable bodily fluids. And he loved every fucking second of it. He loved the lingering smell of gasoline that hung in the air trapped between city walls, he loved the way the humans moved, pressed tightly together until they became one mass, writhing with the pull and sway of the music, and he most definitely loved the way he felt the bass thrumming in his unbeating heart, as if it too pulsed to the beat of whatever shitty song the club was playing.

The smell of liquor was the only scent strong enough to contest with the overpowering aroma that the humans gave off, and had he been an incubus, this would have been an easy feeding ground. He was sure he could even see one or two woven in the crowd, grinding up against whoever they chose to take home. But he was not of their kind, and in fact gained nothing from attending such primal events other than the music, so loud it left no room in his head for the remorse, the guilt that stemmed from his most recent project.

The incubi got to kill their victims. Baekhyun wasn’t so lucky. 

Within the many classes and subtypes of demons, all their extravagance and diversity boiled down to one thing; humans. Any demon- well, any that didn’t want to go crazy and live off goats in the mountains- needed humans, in some way shape or form. They fed off the certain energies produced by them, the inconceivable auras that only beings of life gave off. The problem was, you didn’t get to pick what energy you lived off of. It was what you were, when you plipped into existence in the realm running parallel to the human world; the womb of evil and all its servants. The incubi had had it rough for the first few hundred years, when abstinence was encouraged, if not enforced, and arranged marriages where all too common. In the current day, however, they were feasting, some fucking every night just for the thrill and buzz the new energy sent through them. The one downfall, if you could even call it that, was that the draining of sexual energy was so invasive- in multiple uses of the term- and wearing that the human often died by the end of it, the only known exception being a handful of frat boys in the recent years that had more than enough sexual energy to spare. 

Not all demons killed their victims, and not all were so upfront about their presence either. Some fed off anxious energy, and in such a case it was beneficial to let the victim suffer as long as possible. These creatures would even go so far as to possess their hosts, living in the small space beneath their lungs that twists when you feel like something is wrong, even when all is perfectly well. Many attached themselves to a young adult, girls seemed most susceptible to possession, and some particularly cruel individuals stayed for the hosts whole life, which Baekhyun is fairly certain caused the evolution of the paranoia subtype. However, Baekhyun found himself relating most not to the eaters of lust or anxiety, but rather the demons of Somber; depression, exhaustion, dissociation, and their branches. He supposed he may as well consider himself a Somber at this point; although he despised the effects they had on humans, he couldn’t deny the fact that he himself had subjected countless victims to a similar grief. After all, he was the demon of heartbreak.

It was an odd subtype to be. It took a lot more patience, time and effort than a common incubus, and a lot more finesse than a regular Somber. He had fell many young hearts in his brief two hundred year or so stay on Earth, and had seen countless eyes fill with tears, feel countless hearts pulse with the energy he so desired, overflowing with it, bulging out and leaking like solar flares too strong for their sun to hang on to. And he enjoyed it, perhaps, in the same way a starving man would enjoy killing their pet dog for food, but even then, once the dog was dead it could feel no pain. Baekhyun lingered. He stayed in the subconscious of his victim's mind for as long as they could bare, drawing out their suffering, milking every last drop of sorrow he could from their distress. Sometimes he was clumsy, sometimes he went too far. Humans were stupidly delicate, after all, so who could blame him if one of his past lovers threw themselves off of a bridge, or sat in their running car crying, their garage slowly filling up with the toxic fumes. No, he couldn’t be at fault for that. He wouldn’t let himself be.

~ ~ ~

A shot, placed down beside his arm, refocused his thoughts. He spun on his stool to face the bartender that had handed it to him, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. “I didn’t order a drink.”

“He ordered one for you.” Baekhyun followed the bartender’s gesture towards a man sitting a few stools away, not even looking in their direction. Instead, his eyes were glued downwards, fingers flitting across the screen of his phone. Baekhyun snorted, picked up the shot and sauntered over, careful not to spill any of the liquor on his sleeve. Stopping just shy of the man’s knees, he waited until the man looked up at him before downing the shot, proceeding to slam it back into the counter and send him a smirk. It was all for show, really; alcohol didn’t have the same effect on him, or any of his kind really, as it did on humans. He looked the human up and down carefully, his eyes dragging from his legs, up his torso, and finally settling on his face, which had adopted a nervous expression in the time Baekhyun had been standing there. The expression only intensified as Baekhyun took a step closer, placing his hands on the man’s knees and pushing them apart, allowing him to lean in towards his ear. And hell, if he didn’t wish he was an incubus right now, with the way the man so easily allowed himself to be spread open, pliant under Baekhyun’s touch. 

“I’m not here to fuck.” His lips brushed the man’s ear as he spoke, the only way to be heard in this damn club.

“Neither am I,” was the response, the man’s voice low and rough, but not holding the authority that Baekhyun would have assumed such a voice to contain. “Just thought you were cute and could use some company.”

It was… not the answer Baekhyun had expected, and as such he didn’t, as he had originally planned, turn and leave. Instead he straightened up, removing his hands from the man’s thighs, which twitched slightly at the lack of contact, and placed them on his hips, cocking his head slightly. “In that case,” the words were delivered alongside a smirk that could only be described as hell sent, “I think I could use some company.” He gestured towards the entrance of the club, where cool air and the comforting darkness of night spilled through the cracked door, some latecomers still in line, waiting for someone to leave so that they may be permitted access. “Walk with me, will you?” He waited until the man nodded before grabbed his hand and pulling him to his feet, having to hide his surprise at just how much the stranger towered over him. “I’m Baekhyun.” He didn’t let go of the hand as they wove through the densely-packed swarm of bodies, shoving sweaty, likely intoxicated bodies out of the way. They exited into the blissfully cool night, Baekhyun breathing in the comparatively fresh air gratefully. “And what do I have the honor of calling you?”

The man broke into a goofy, lopsided smile at his words, his free hand coming up to scratch absentmindedly at a spot on his head. “Me?” He seemed slightly baffled, if not amused, at the choice of words. “Call me Chanyeol.”

~ ~ ~

On the list of things Baekhyun expected himself to do, accepting Chanyeol’s offer to head back to his apartment for a drink was certainly not ranked high. Even lower was his decision to continue drinking long into the night, until he no longer had to fake the effects of alcohol, as Chanyeol was too drunk himself to notice otherwise. The lowest possible of all was for him not to leave after Chanyeol passed out on the couch, and yet by the end of the night he somehow found himself tucking the boy into bed and collapsing himself onto the cushions, staring blankly at the wall for longer than he cared to remember. It could be nothing. It could be just a drunken night with a stranger, a night that would go unspoken of the next morning and would eventually fade to memory, and from memory dissolve into the deep pit of the forgotten, ending with the two of them on their own separate paths, no longer recalling the other’s name. 

But it could also be more. Chanyeol was an easy victim: naive, young, vulnerable. It had been long since Baekhyun had last fed, too long, even if the wound still stung as if fresh. Fuck, he hated doing this. Even so, leaving before anything became of the two would only be swapping Chanyeol out for some other lonely asshole foolish enough to fall for Baekhyun’s manufactured smile, the oh-so-accidental brushes of his hands against their body, the fool’s gold sparkle of his eyes that promised that they were his one, his only. Chanyeol seemed like the bleeding-heart type, at least from what his drunken banter had revealed. It would be quick, easy, in and out in one, maybe one and a half years. And someone so sensitive would surely release enough energy to last Baekhyun a decade at least. There was no reason not to, no way of sparing one without hurting another. 

He could do it. He could make Chanyeol love him. And when the time was right, when everything held in a precarious balance, Baekhyun would tip the scale, push him over the edge, and Chanyeol would become nothing more to him than a means of survival, a source of energy to reap as he saw fit. He could eat Chanyeol from the inside out, until nothing but a husk, a shell, remained. He had done it before, and God knew he would do it again. He had no choice.


	2. Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I know I'm a day early, but I may or may not be busy tomorrow and I wanted to make sure I had time to post uwu  
> Editing this chapter made me realize how little plot it had??? idk just take it as fluff or something. ha. This fic as a whole is like 3 chapters dedicated to 2 days and then it skips to like 5 months later. Bear with me, I didn't want to make this fic like 50k. Hopefully the weird time jumps aren't too jarring ;n;

Each living thing on earth, from the great redwoods to tiny phytoplankton, elephants to mice, humans to demons, must feed. It is the single commonality that brings them all together, one that spurs an endless struggle of survival, hunters and their respective prey. It could be said that demons themselves didn’t need food, but their human bodies did, and shortage of such precious energy lead to a definite withering of the cavity, in which the soul (yes, demons did have souls, just of a different species than humans) returns to the nether realm from which it was born, doomed to float aimlessly until another body could be manifested. Such an act required a high amount of energy, something that wasn’t common in the mists of the dark world. The only source of such currency was the withering of another human shell, upon which the usually quiet mists became a storm, each entity fighting with one another, pushing to get close to the descending soul to suck up its energy for itself. Depending on the age of the single being, the energy it released could spawn perhaps two to three other human forms, which was nothing in the mass of thousands of souls that fought for the vital sustenance. As such, a single demon brought back to the womb could usually expect themselves to return to earth in a minimum of a few centuries, and only after tireless efforts in combat with the others grasping for the chance at life.

It wasn’t often that one descended. Demons, and especially those of the more flamboyant subtypes such as incubi, enjoyed life on earth such that they protected their human form with a fierce vehemence only commonly found in Ancients. It was the sombers that most commonly fell, and not by inability. Such drawn out possessions wore them down over time, made them question the quality of life on earth when all they did was hurt. Some enjoyed it, sure, but most simply gave up after a while, letting themselves wither and returning to the cool embrace of the nether. There were whispers, rumours, that the sombers often fell ill to what they bestowed upon others, and it was this that lead to their demise. Rumours that they succumbed to their own toxin, leached out the energy they had so diligently collected back into the world. It was a quick death, quicker than simply starving, but one that was veiled in ambiguity and blurry lines between fact and falsehood. If anyone had ever or could ever decipher these mysterious deaths, it was the Ancients, but council with them surely lead to dismemberment and teeth sinking deep into your flesh, tearing your human body apart and feasting on the energy it leaked. Some even say they would feast on the souls themselves, but it is unknown whether that is the truth, as no one dared test the theory out.

The unknown of it all instilled fear in many, not that any would admit it. Even the incubi looked upon sombers with a mixture of fear, pity, and condescension. They saw them as weaker, more human, but could not dismiss the worry that they too, might eventually suffer similar afflictions. It was a taboo topic, to put lightly, and scarcely ever crossed the lips of any subtype. 

Perhaps it was true, but Baekhyun himself had yet to experience love, let alone heartbreak. Before his body, when he was a part of the formless ether that made up his motherland and sensed the violent outbreaks between his kin, he often wondered why the souls fought against each other with such urgency, desperate to breath Earth’s air and taste her nectar. While many of the descendants would once more join in the scramble for new life, a few would not touch the light again, drawing away whenever someone’s energy-rich soul returned to the nether. Baekhyun had felt through them their despair, the hopelessness and hatred for the human realm. He sensed in them an emptiness darker and colder than anything he had felt before, and it was something completely new. Not the dark, not the cold, but the _feeling_. 

Having no body, he could not translate the information into something comprehensible, but he could read the memories it warranted, and there was good in the bad, light in the darkness, warmth in the cold. It sparked a curiosity in him, and he soon found himself wanting it. He wanted to _feel_. And in the oncoming descents, he himself joined in the chaos that was the storm, surging forward towards the light only to be pulled back by another. For a decade he fought, and for a decade he failed. And then, in an instant seemingly no different than the rest, he succeeded, and he felt the energy flow through him, felt the cold of his world truly for the first time only for it to fade and be replaced with something Baekhyun didn't have a word for. Warmth.

It was overwhelming, at first. He had sat in his body for entire day just sitting and staring. He had awoken in the middle of a field, the grass sun fried and stabbing into his new-found bare flesh, his first experience of pain. He paid it no mind, for there was so much to see, feel, smell, _taste_. He couldn’t keep up with it all. Sense was not something he had ever experienced, and it frightened him. What lay beneath him did not move, but what sprouted from it did, and Baekhyun found he could pluck the small growths with his hands- he had hands! - out from the hardness, and it was dry and sharp but offered him nothing more than discomfort when he pinched it between his fingers- he had fingers! - and did not cut his skin. The protrusions and the endless slab they were stuck in offered scent, and it was not unpleasant, the smell of dirt and weathered grass. He could feel the space surrounding him even though he could not see it, and it pushed gently against his chest and lifted the hairs on his head kindly. It was not unlike the ether he used to be, formless but existing, there and at the same time not. It brought more smells to him, and upon opening his mouth he found that they had another level to them that danced on his tongue, though much subtler than their inhaled counterparts. But all these new sensations were muted in comparison to what he saw. A great canvas stretched above him, impossible to tell how high nor how far its expanse went on, and it was different than the matter beneath him, he could not feel it, not touch it, and to his eyes it held a different quality, one that he had no word for but he would come in time to name as colour. In the distance, large rectangles stretched from the below to the above, and closer large unmoving pillars reached with their appendages up, up, up into the canvas. It was nothing that Baekhyun could describe, even after he had learned that intricacy that was speech. This world was full of things, and each one was unique, and each one was beautiful.

Experience, as always, came with a price. Now that he knew this world, now that he had tasted its air and felt its life, he feared. He feared starvation, feared the withering of his body, feared the descent as so many of his kin thrashed around him, feasting on what remained. He feared being lost in the dark he had once been content in, of returning to the place he had once only known, and finding that he could no longer stand to exist in it.

~ ~ ~

Baekhyun awoke to bright light on his face, having not had the mind to shut the blinds the night before. He groaned, rolling over and mashing his face back into the cushy leather. He let himself lay there for ten minutes before giving up on sleep, lurching to his feet and stumbling to the kitchen to squint at the clock on the oven. 8:12. Fucking hell. The floor squeaked slightly as he padded towards Chanyeol’s room, peaking in to the much darker space. The man slept soundly, sleep having tangled the sheets into an indiscernible mass on top of him. With reassurance that Chanyeol was in no position to wake soon, Baekhyun crept back towards to the kitchen, stopping at the counter to size up the machine that smelled of old coffee. He regarded it first with curiosity, then frustration. It wasn’t as if Baekhyun hadn’t seen a coffee machine before, but Chanyeol’s was something out of a sci-fi film, a big sleek hunk of metal that didn’t seem to have anywhere to put the water, much less the coffee. He pulled at what appeared to be a handle to no avail, pressed a button that did no more than light up the display with a blue glow. Where was the glass pot? Where were the filters? Baekhyun searched Chanyeol’s cupboards but found neither filters nor grounds nor coffee beans themselves. What he did find were tiny plastic cups, branded with the same name proudly advertised on the front of the monstrosity on the counter. Bringing one to his nose, he inhaled deeply in an attempt to smell if it contained coffee, but the plastic was airtight. Chanyeol had many of the cups, so Baekhyun didn’t feel particularly bad as he tore off the lid of one, delighted with the dark soil-like grounds that greeted him within, their smell rich and familiar. God fucking bless. He returned to the machine with his new discovery, his small find offering him new confidence and ebbing his frustration enough to face the machine once again. Still no glass pot; perhaps it held the coffee internally? After a few minutes more of fussing with it, and a few more choice words muttered towards the metal brute, he managed to pry the top off, the arm that he had once thought as a means to carry the machine swinging up above it, reveling a black plastic interior speckled with beads of water and saturating the scent of coffee in the air. He considered it a good sign, but the inside of the machine offered no clues as to how it operated. Baekhyun reached his hand into the interior, feeling around for any indication of where to put his little cup of ground beans. His wandering fingers were greeted with a sharpness, stabbing into his skin.

“Fuck!” Baekhyun yanked his hand out of the machine, watching a drop of blood pool on his fingertip. He pondered, briefly, on whether Chanyeol would hate him if he were to smash this metal son of a bitch. He probably would. Baekhyun gritted his teeth at the withheld revenge. He had been bested by a robot. Ready to give up, he tried reasoning with it one last time, stubborn and prideful. He decided, after a few minutes of thought, that this technology must have advanced farther past the need of filters, society seeing them as wasteful. It was the only logical explanation. With this thought bringing him morale, he poured the ground coffee into the top of the machine, tossing out the cup and pushing the lid back down until he heard it click.

“See?” Baekhyun’s voice was soft as he spoke to himself, or perhaps the machine, he wasn’t sure. “We can be reasonable. This didn’t have to be so difficult.” His mind drew back briefly to the sleepy Chanyeol in the other room, suddenly wondering if he had been quiet enough as not to rouse the other. He pressed a few more buttons on the machine randomly until it started making sounds, the gurgle of water a sign that he was on the right track. A sigh brushed past his lips as he leaned back onto the counter. He was tired, it was fuck o’clock in the morning- 9:06, to precise- and he had almost been defeated by a fucking machine trying to make coffee that wasn’t even for him. Making someone love you was a lot easier in the old days. They didn’t have demonic coffee makers.

The machine sputtered into silence after a minute or two, bringing Baekhyun out of his thoughts. “Hey.” Baekhyun prodded it with his elbow. “What the fuck are you doing? Don’t stop, where’s the coffee?” The machine stayed silent, unwilling to share its secrets, as if taunting him. He spun to face it once more, his face twisting bitterly. The display blinked options happily at him like the patronizing fuck it was, different size cups flashing on the screen. “Fuck you and your riddles, you metal piece of shit.” Still, the machine did not answer him. It just kept blinking at him, and Baekhyun stared at the prompts suspiciously before giving in, lifting his hand to touch one of the buttons under the mugs.

The moment Baekhyun’s finger pressed against the button, he knew it was a mistake. Something like the sound of hell hounds growled out from within the machine, and seconds later hot black coffee sprayed violently out from the nozzle of the machine, sputtering and coughing as it spat out the now soggy-grounds along with the liquid. They spewed out of the machine with no remorse, overwhelming the catch tray and overflowing onto the counter, only to spill onto the floor.

“SHIT. Shit, shit-” Out of instinct, Baekhyun held his hands up against the deluge, the steaming liquid burning his palms and splattering onto his shirt. Spotting a roll of paper towel, he lunged towards the counter, accidentally soaking one of his socks in the warm wetness spreading over the floor.

It took another thirty seconds before the machine ceased its incessant spray, and by that time Baekhyun had unrolled half of the paper towel, soaking up as much of the mess as he could. It took another five minutes to finish the job, wiping away the cooled liquid and coffee grounds. He disposed of the evidence in the kitchen’s garbage can, his hands reeking of the foul drink and his clothes stained brown.

By the time he was done he could do no more than sit numb on the kitchen floor, evaluating the past hour of his life. Was it all worth it? Was he fit to still exist in the human world, when he was clearly incapable of making a single breakfast drink? The machine beeped at him, as if answering his questions. His eyes snapped out of their glazed, zone out state, hatred filling them the moment they locked on the monstrosity. He pushed himself to his feet, lumbering over and placing his hands onto the counter on either side of it and peering into the display.

ERROR – CLOGGED TRACK

Baekhyun blinked at the machine, and then nodded, pulling out its plug and taking it gently into his arms. He carried it out of the apartment, making sure to leave the door open a crack, and out onto the nearest fire escape, stroking its still slightly warm surface reassuringly. He pushed open the door with his back, exiting into the cold morning air and standing there for half a minute just staring at the now dark display. He blinked at it once more, and then held it over the edge of the railing, letting it fall through his hands. No expression graced his face as it fell, nor at the resounding shatter that echoed through the empty alleyway. As the echoes faded, a single, content sigh blew across Baekhyun’s lips. He returned back into the building, letting the alleyway once more fall into its sleepy morning silence.

~ ~ ~

“Hey.” Baekhyun’s voice was soft and sweet. He roused Chanyeol gently with his free hand, careful not to spill the cup of steaming coffee he had bought from a café two blocks away. The man made a sound in his throat, his eyebrows pinching together slightly. Another shake. “Heeeyyyyy.”

“Mmf. Ugh. Who- Baekhyun?” Chanyeol squinted up at him. The room was still dark, heavy curtains refusing entry to the Sun’s rays. “What…?”

“I got you coffee.” His smile was factory-grade, practised and wielded more times than Baekhyun had cared to count. He let Chanyeol push himself into a seating position, his hair sticking up every which way and face puffy. If Baekhyun hadn’t been planning to tear his heart to pieces and absorb the respective energy released, he might have found it cute.

“What time is it?” Chanyeol accepted the cup when it was pushed towards him, squinting his eyes at the steam as he blew on it lightly.

Baekhyun, coffee delivered, pushed himself off the bed, striding over to the curtains and tugging them open half way. “Almost eleven.”

Chanyeol groaned at the light, throwing his arm over his face grumpily. “Fuck. My head fucking _hurts_.”

“That’s what you get for getting so drunk. With a stranger, no less. I could have taken advantage of you.” After a moment to peer out of the bedroom’s window- there wasn’t much to see- Baekhyun returned to the bed, sitting on the edge cautiously. He didn’t want to move too fast.

His comment earned him a goofy, slightly lopsided grin. “Nah, you wouldn’t have. You said you weren’t into that kind of stuff.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He returned the smile with a smirk, scrunching his nose and leaning closer as if preparing to let slip some juicy gossip. “I leave that to the professionals.”

“Ha!” Chanyeol’s laugh was unexpected, causing Baekhyun to jump ever so slightly. “Well shit, that’s as good of a reason as any.” He took another sip of his drink, sucking air through his teeth as he discovered it was still too hot.

“What’s yours?”

“Hm?”

“What’s your excuse?”

“Waiting till marriage.”

“Ah.” Baekhyun snorted. “I never would have guessed you were the good little church boy type. Not with your tats and piercings.”

Chanyeol glanced down towards his arm at the comment, where sure enough ink stretched snugly over his skin. He shrugged as if he had forgotten it was there, and Baekhyun wouldn’t have been surprised if he had. “That’s just ‘cause I was bored.” He regarded his coffee curiously as they fell into silence, the conversation sputtering out. “You know, I’m grateful for the coffee and all, but you really didn’t need to go out and buy it. I have a coffee maker.”

“Yeah, about that…” Baekhyun paused for a moment, trying to find the gentlest way to confess what he had done. Chanyeol looked at him, either curiosity or worry or both drawing his eyebrows together slightly. “I fucked up your coffee machine. It is… no longer with us.”

“You-” Chanyeol blinked at him, then down at the coffee. “That was a hundred and fifty dollars!”

“I’ll buy you a new one!” Reaching out to clutch Chanyeol’s arm gently, Baekhyun put forth his best pout, and at the reluctance still painted on the face of the other let forth a small wave of energy as a safeguard.

It was nothing, really, a light cocktail of persuasion, remission and God knew what else. It was not unlike the way the incubi lured their victims, although they had the privilege of a very fast payoff and could therefore afford to practically seep the stuff, which had in turn given the brew the nickname ‘ichor’. For incubi, human contact with the ether simply meant lust insatiable by all but the demon him or herself. Sombers, for the most part, induced whatever they fed off of. Baekhyun used his mostly to get out of situations where he fucked up, or to yield the heart of whoever he planned to next possess. There had been whispers of demons switching their ichor, turning lust to disgust, love to hate, but to do so was foolish enough that not many believed the rumors. It would be a waste of energy, and ichor did not come cheap. Baekhyun didn’t bother himself with the rumors. All that mattered to him was that whatever it was made his life a fuckton easier.

“I-” Chanyeol frowned at Baekhyun’s regretful face for a moment more before sighing, his free hand coming up to pushing his hair from his forehead. “Ugh, fine. I- I need to shower, and eat. Leave me your number and I’ll call you or something. When are you free?”

Baekhyun smirked, leaning back onto his hands and peering upon Chanyeol with a sickly-sweet gaze. “For you? Always.”


	3. Taste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I was editing this I found so many mistakes so don't be surprised if you find more.  
> Also remember how I said I had like 3 chapters dedicated to three days and then things move quickly? yeah this is the lat chapter for the slow part! wooooo. It was actually kinda hard finessing time, as I had given myself strictly 6 chapters to write this whole thing. I have one more to write, and I still have 3 major plot points that I want to flesh out.  
> Annnyyyyyways Enjoy~

Although most demons prefer not to socialize with one another, content to go their individual ways, there was a certain exemption granted to those new to their body, should they choose to accept it. Baekhyun was found in the field by an incubus who routinely surveyed the area, as it seemed a common space for new bodies to spawn. He was kind to Baekhyun, laying out the rules to the human world as well as life as a perpetual outsider. Baekhyun had come to admire the man, who he eventually came to know as Jongin, and stayed with him for the first few months on Earth, many decades prior to meeting Chanyeol. He was taught politics, social etiquette and expectations, and had enough academic textbooks forced on him that he could appear educated. 

“Humans,” Jongin had explained, “have become so much more picky over the past hundred or so years. For people like me, it doesn’t matter as much, but if you turn out to be a subtype that needs continual interaction with a human for extended periods of time, it is a good idea not to come off as some low class, uneducated, factory escapee beggar.” 

Baekhyun didn’t know what a beggar was, but the way Jongin spoke of them inferred that they were not something to be admired, and so he nodded, playing with the paper before him. It was strewn with a multitude of mathematical problems that were childishly easy, or at least he thought they were until Jongin had informed him that they were taken from the final exam of multiple post secondary calculus classes. Whatever that meant. “How will I know what I am?”

From across the table, Jongin shrugged at him. “No way to tell. You’ll just… feel it one day, doing something. I realized what I was when I bed my first human. I was just doing it out of curiosity but…” he trailed off, letting memory glaze his eyes over. “You just feel it.”

“What does it feel like?” Baekhyun leaned forward, eyes bright, forgetting about the math problems that Jongin had assigned him. He much more enjoyed talking about what he was, what he could be, than human academics. 

“The sex itself, or the energy I got from it?”

“Both.”

“It felt,” a smirk drew over his lips, “good. Really fucking good.”

Baekhyun felt it himself- the energy, that is- a year later, sitting in the park. Jongin had explained that new bodies always had a surplus of energy. It was likely just because it took less energy to make a body than what was released in death, but Baekhyun had always seen it as an act of kindness, a mercy period in which to learn both about the world and of oneself. However, he had in the past few weeks gotten nervous. Nothing he had experienced had given him any clues, and he had tried everything that he could think of. Even Jongin had run out of ideas, and had in recent weeks been glancing at Baekhyun with worry, although only when he thought the man wasn’t looking.

The park was a nice place simply to _be_. Baekhyun had been doing nothing, simply _being_ , letting the Sun soak into his skin. It felt good, warm. He had been feeling so cold as of late, goosebumps breaking out over his arm at the slightest breeze. Jongin kept the heat on even during the warm days of spring that forewarned the hellish summer that was manifesting. He didn’t say anything about Baekhyun’s chill. He didn’t have to. Baekhyun knew what it meant. He had to figure himself out, and fucking soon.

A couple, or at least Baekhyun assumed they were a couple, sat on a blanket a few meters away, laughing and teasing one another, though maintaining the necessary space between them as a courtesy of the time. Baekhyun watched them out of the corner of his eye, having nothing more interesting to do. He had always possessed such a strange fascination for human love, even if he had never experienced the feeling himself, one that had been the cause of multiple bouts of teasing from Jongin. The man in Baekhyun’s peripheral proposed, confessing his undying love for the woman that he had hidden thus far.

Silence fell onto the glade, and Baekhyun found it nearly impossible to keep is head from turning to look at the ‘couple’. He allowed himself a glance, and his eyes found the young woman standing over her kneeling admirer with remorse- and could that be slight disgust? - on her face. Her hand was clutched between the two of the man and she looked moments away from gnawing off her own arm to escape. Baekhyun allowed a smile to creep onto his face, pushing down the laughter that threatened to boil from his throat. It was just too fucking funny. She couldn’t marry him. She was in love with someone else. She had only seen him as a friend, a brother. As she spoke, Baekhyun listened, and he would have taken her words for nothing more than entertainment but then he _felt it_.

It was indescribable. He could feel it rush through his chest and spark on his tongue, more delicious that any of the human food Jongin had made him try (for experience purposes; food did nothing for him metabolically) and more refreshing than glacier water in the desert. It sizzled on his skin, hotter than the sun; the first dip into a bath following hours spent out on a winter’s day. It was fleeting, gone as quickly as it had arrived, and it left Baekhyun reeling. He wanted, _needed_ , more; this distant witness had not been enough. He looked back towards the blanket. The girl was gone, only the man remained, hands resting on his crossed legs like dead spiders as he stared into nothing. Baekhyun nearly felt it in his own heart, the sweet ache, luscious agony.

And he wanted to feel it again. He _would_ feel it again. And again and again and again.

~ ~ ~

The store was lit like a hospital, bright white fluorescent lights chasing off all shadows and concepts of passing time. And, like a hospital, it housed a certain quiet, interrupted only by the occasional shout of a child, quickly hushed by its mother.

It had been a wile since Baekhyun had been in such a place. He not only disliked the atmosphere but also had no need for stores like this, the long halls of food mirrored by their respective halls of appliances and utensils. He followed Chanyeol through the parallel-walled maze, eyes lingering on the flashy new gadgets that every household reportedly needed to have.

“Here.” Chanyeol stopped suddenly, and had Baekhyun not been slowed by the distraction of an orange fish-shaped snack box he would have run right into him. The part of the aisle Chanyeol stopped in front of housed dozens of cardboard boxes printed with pictures of the demon machine Baekhyun had earlier disposed of. They were not all the same, it seemed, varying in colour, ability, and price. 

“Pick whichever you want. I’ll get it for you.” Baekhyun grabbed a random one off the shelf that seemed promising, boasting words like FASTER and 50+ BRANDS AND VARIETIES.

“That one is two hundred dollars. Just get me the same as before.” Chanyeol reached for a box n the shelf but Baekhyun stepped in front of his arm, tilting the box in his hands back and forth as if to try to tempt him.

“That means it’s better.” He scoffed at Chanyeol’s disapproving look. “Come on, I feel bad. I don’t’ care how much it is. Really. I can tell you want it.”

“No, I-” Chanyeol began to push him out of he way but paused, cocking his head. “What do you do for a living?”

Baekhyun considered, for a moment, being honest. ‘Oh’, he could say, ‘I live off the money that one of my past lovers, who happened to own post-war factories, left me. The buildings had long been torn down by now, since people started to become more conscious about unfair wages and work safety conditions, so I build an apartment building on the land and now charge tenants a stupid amount of money to live there.’ Yes, he considered telling Chanyeol this for one brief, precarious moment, but then he just shrugged, smiled. “I’m a landlord.”

“Oh.” Baekhyun could see the distain on Chanyeol’s face, not for him but for his occupation, then his arm dropped. Humans always seemed to hate landlords. Baekhyun still didn’t fully understand it. “In that case, I won’t feel bad about it. Fine, I’ll get this one.”

It was at the checkout that they spoke again. Baekhyun sliding his bank card into the reader. “What do you do?” He glanced over to confirm that Chanyeol had heard him.

“Huh?” He hadn’t.

“Your job. Where do you work?”

“Oh, at the hospital.”

“Doctor?”

“Nurse.”

“That’s still good.” The card reader beeped at them. They bid the cashier farewell, exiting the store and replacing the awful light with that of the Sun.

“Listen, I gotta go to work in like an our or so.” The plastic shopping bag hands crunched in Chanyeol’s palm.

“Oh, you work nights?” Baekhyun watched the bad spin, handles twisting tighter and tighter until they slowed to a stop and began to unravel.

“Sometimes.” He shrugged. “But I can text you or something, when I’m free. Maybe we can hang out sometime? Get dinner? Only if you want to…”

The proposal surprised Baekhyun. He had been planning on putting forth the offer himself, prepared to sway his decision with ichor had Chanyeol been reluctant. Perhaps humans were becoming bolder, and if not then Chanyeol surely must be an even easier target by himself. Either way, it made Baekhyun’s job easier, and saved him the energy. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

And it was perhaps the promise of the feast that was to come that seeded the excitement in Baekhyun’s heart such that he found himself restless for the remainder of the day. Even his bed offered him no comfort, and for the majority of the following night he sat on the couch staring at the wall, waiting for the unmoving beige to bore him to sleep, his phone sat silently in his lap. It must have worked eventually, as he awoke around midday, the sun slicing through a crack in his curtains onto his face. He squinted grumpily at the light for a few minutes, then groaned when he accepted that it wasn’t going anywhere. A check of his phone informed him that Chanyeol had not yet messaged him, which sprouted disappointment in him, disappointment that he rationalized was simply because of his impatience. It made sense for the man to not have texted; if he worked nights then he was probably at home asleep. Baekhyun rolled off the couch onto the floor with a thud, lying there for a few minutes too many before rising and staggering to the bathroom. He turned the shower on as hot as he could stand, letting the water wash over him and letting thoughts of Chanyeol evaporate from his mind and get sucked up by the bathroom fan.

The shower ate up half an hour of his day, a meek amount before the empty hours that were to come. He should have slept later. What had occupied the many days before the night in the club? Baekhyun couldn’t remember. He wanted to be patient, wanted to wait for Chanyeol to text him, but as the day grew into a week, he found himself unable to keep still and unable to go more than half a minute without checking his phone. Perhaps it was simply the thrill of a new project that left him antsy, his fingers typing in the only phone number he cared to remember seemingly all on their own. It rang six times before the other end was picked up, a groggy but familiar voice answering his call. “Hello?”

“Jongin.” Baekhyun smiled at his voice. “Can we meet?”

~ ~ ~

A cup of coffee was set down before Baekhyun on the chipped surface of the table, steam yawning from the small opening of the lid. He had never personally cared for the liquid before, finding it too bitter to be worth drinking, but now it was welcomed. Its sharp flavour and rich aroma shocked him back into reality, made him focus on the here and now rather than the piece of metal and wiring sitting quietly on the table.

“You, know,” Jongin sat with his own cup across from him, looking upon Baekhyun with slight amusement, “of all my students, you are the only one that has actually kept in touch with me.”

Baekhyun scoffed. “Of course. You’re my greatest asset. Why would I give that up?”

“That’s it?” The corner of Jongin’s mouth twitched up, and fuck if Baekhyun didn’t feel the slightest bit wooed. Jongin had that effect on people, it seemed, even those that weren’t of the human variety. “I think you’re just a big softie.”

“If I’m a softie, then you enjoy the thought of waiting until marriage to fuck.”

“Language.”

“To _consummate_ , then.” Baekhyun took a sip of his coffee, gagged, then took another. “I didn’t call you to be made fun of.”

“Why did you call me, then?”

“Because I was bored?”

“Bored?” Jongin echoed. “You? Bored? I never thought those words would be said in tandem. You always found things to do, places to explore. What changed?”

Shrugging, Baekhyun let his eyes wander around the coffee shop that Jongin had insisted they meet in. It was as empty as one would assume a coffee shop to be halfway through a Thursday to be; only a few patrons sat curled around their cups, letting its warmth brush off the day’s surprisingly chilly bite. Winter would come early this year, it seemed. “I’m just restless is all. Impatient.” He let Jongin’s raised eyebrow over the lip of his cup as he drank persuade him to continue. “I just started on a new human, and he seemed really easy but now he’s taking forever to text back.” Baekhyun scowled down at his own cup for good measure, listening to the general murmur that coffee shops seemed to take on.

“Could you not just go to him yourself? Even if he is busy or annoyed at your sudden appearance, it’s nothing a little ichor couldn’t smooth over.” Jongin’s eyes flitted briefly over to a table at which two young girls that should have definitely been in school at this hour sat, his attention drawn by their loud giggles. Baekhyun didn’t have to look to know they were staring.

“I don’t think I have much left.” The admission was delivered in a small voice, but Jongin’s gaze snapped back to him as if he had shouted it, his eyebrows furrowing together. “It- it’s been a while. My last project didn’t end as well as I thought it would. It didn’t,” he swallowed, “feel nice. Ending it that is."

“Are you,” Jongin spoke slowly, cautiously, considering each word before it left his mouth, “feeling guilty?” Baekhyun didn’t answer, just stared down at the table, running his finger over the cracks born from countless uses. “Baekhyun, are you unhappy in the human world?”

“No.” His face twisted. “I mean, I love it here, and I would never want to go back but I just- I have to stare into their eyes and watch them fall apart. I can’t say I like that. It’s just hard. And it gets a little lonely, you know?” His phone buzzed on the table, lighting up and informing him that he had received a message. Baekhyun snatched it off the table quickly, his eyes flicking over the screen. A slight smile twitched at his lips, not lost to Jongin, who watched him quietly, setting his coffee down for the first time.

“It’s hard for all of us.” His voice was deep, firm, so much so that Baekhyun looked up from his phone to meet his eyes, only to be greeted with a gaze holding an intensity that made him uneasy. “But it is the price we must pay for existing on this planet, for rising above the dark nothing in which we were born. No human is worth jeopardizing that.” Baekhyun broke the gaze out of mere discomfort, his fingers tapping out a reply. “Not a single one. Do not forget that.”


	4. Smell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> I bet you are surprised that I am posting this on a Wednesday. Well, I put up a poll on twitter stating that I had finished writing this and asking if you all wanted me to continue posting weekly or post more often, and with an astounding four (4) votes, the general consensus was you wanted more often. So here we are.  
> 

The longer Baekhyun stayed in the human world, the more he realized just how fragile and, well, inferior they were. They pumped their bodies full of toxins, put themselves in constant danger, never thought things through. Humanity as a concept was, in essence, ceaseless stupidity, seeing how far they could push themselves before they broke. Still, despite their unappreciative attitude towards life and tendency to stress over issues that were easily fixed, Baekhyun had always held a certain curiosity towards them, an admiration. Perhaps it was due to the fact that he would never be one himself, that he would always be an outsider. He wanted to know how they thought, the way their minds worked in such a self-destructive way.

“Have you ever liked a human?” Baekhyun had asked one day as he and Jongin walked through the deep woods near their house. Autumn had taken a sick day it seemed, and winter was its replacement, covering the earth in a light frosting of snow such that every surface looked like it had been dusted in powdered sugar. It would not last. “I mean, _like_ like.”

“Are you asking me if I have ever loved a human?

“Yeah.”

“Then yes, I have.”

“Really?” Baekhyun stopped to grab onto Jongin’s jacket in excitement, his eyes lit up. He couldn’t imagine Jongin in such a state; the man had always been so focused and steady on his feet, and the idea of him swooning after another was laughable. “What was it like? Who was it? Did it lead anywhere? How did it end?”

Jongin exhaled sharply from his nose in what could have been interpreted as a laugh, continuing to walk but not brushing Baekhyun’s hand’s off his arm. “It was,” he began, a barely-there smile threatening the corners of his mouth, “the son of a farmer. About your height, I’d say. I had met him when my own mentor forced me to befriend him in the hopes of me getting used to talking and interacting with humans in such a way that I didn’t make a total fool of myself. We ended up meeting many times a week, so I suppose you could say it worked.” He let out a small laugh, but the sound was empty, hopeless. The smiled vanished from his face, as if the memory had turned sour on his tongue. “We ended up falling in love. We were so young, so foolish. You must understand that I had only been on earth for less than a decade when I met him, I was not yet matured enough to be wary nor had the sense about me to realize what a poor decision I was making.”

Some of the excitement faded from Baekhyun as Jongin spoke, his words holding both bitterness and pain. “So, what happened?” Even as the question left his tongue, Baekhyun knew he didn’t want to know, and he mourned the joyful atmosphere that had been murdered right before him.

“Someone found out.” It was at this moment that Jongin finally stopped walking, turning to face him. There was a fierceness in his eyes, a darkness born only by someone who had seen the worst of humanity and lived to speak of it. “In those times, and even now, love was not something accepted in non-traditional circumstances. Especially in the countryside. His father-” Baekhyun could see his throat bob as he swallowed, his eyes adopting a shiny, glazed look. “They were going to torture him, to try and make him ‘right’. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“Jongin,” Baekhyun’s throat felt dry, his eyes staring up at the other widely, “what did you _do_?”

“I killed him.” The words were barely there, dripping from his lips with the weight heavier than Baekhyun had ever known. “They were going to _hurt him_ , Baekhyun! What could I have done? I was too new too Earth, and he was an uneducated farm boy. We wouldn’t have been able to make it on our own. I- I did the only thing I could. For _him_. I did everything for _him_! And I would much rather have the one I love die by my hand peacefully than screaming in agony as the people he once trusted broke him apart piece by piece. Wouldn’t you?” Baekhyun didn’t answer at first, refusing to lift his eyes to meet the others, so Jongin grabbed him by his shoulders and pulled Baekhyun towards him. There was a desperation in his gaze, a silent plead for confirmation that he had done the right thing. “ _Wouldn’t you?_ ”

“Yes,” Baekhyun’s voice was deathly quiet, but it was enough. Jongin released him, stumbling a step back with shaky breaths, “I suppose I would.”

~ ~ ~

The corner of the window was perpetually fogged, stained orange by the reflection of the warm light coming from within the restaurant. Chanyeol was fiddling with the unlit candle on their table, waiting for both his food and thoughts of conversation to arrive.

“I’m sorry I took forever to text. This week has been…” He puffed his cheeks out to finish the sentence, letting the air out with a _pwoof_.

“No, its okay. I totally understand.” Baekhyun offer up his best smile, which seemed to lighten Chanyeol’s mood a bit. “I’m just happy to be here.”

The man smiled back at Baekhyun, and unlike Baekhyun’s it was warm, genuine, as if Chanyeol was actually sorry for making Baekhyun wait so long. And it felt nice, admittedly, to have someone care. Not that Baekhyun would let that get in the way of his job. 

They fell into silence as the waitress arrived, two overpriced plates of pasta set down before them. “I’m off this whole weekend,” Chanyeol stated after she left, taking a small bite and humming in approval, “We can make up the lost time. Watch a movie at my place or something.”

“Damn, not even halfway through the first date and you’re already asking me out on another?” Baekhyun smirked as Chanyeol choked on his noodles as his comment, unable to reply until he had finished chewing.

“Is it too much? Sorry, no, you’re right, I shouldn’t have-”

“I’m kidding.” Baekhyun plucked a napkin from the holder, leaning forward to wipe sauce from the corner of Chanyeol’s mouth. It was a risky move, but much to Baekhyun’s prediction the man simply flushed, staring down at his still mostly full plate. God, it was too fucking easy. All motives aside, Baekhyun _enjoyed_ doing it, if only to see the other get flustered. It was almost cute. Almost. “I’m all yours.”

The brief flick of his eyes upwards was all Baekhyun needed to see the excitement in Chanyeol’s eyes, the restrained enthusiasm, and Baekhyun wondered if maybe, just maybe, the week had been as hard for Chanyeol as it had been for him. It was an outrageous idea. Preposterous. Baekhyun knew that humans often fell for him much more quickly and easily than other humans, the same way an incubus attracted all eyes in the room without using an ounce of ichor, but his previous record for getting a human invested was a month, and even then, he had been annoyingly persistent. Chanyeol was… something different, and it unsteadied Baekhyun. This wasn’t how things usually went, wasn’t how things usually made Baekhyun feel. It was as frightening as it was alluring, and Baekhyun couldn’t figure out what it meant.

The following day, Baekhyun found himself sat on Chanyeol’s couch, eyes locked on the tv as he flipped through the man’s impressive collection of movies. “Am I supposed to pretend not to notice that these are all pirated or am I now an accessory to the crime?”

“Definitely an accessory.” Chanyeol sunk down on the opposite end of the couch, putting a bowl of still steaming popcorn onto the coffee table and tossing a handful into his mouth. Baekhyun snorted his faux disapproval, picking at random a movie that he could remember was popular earlier in the year. It didn’t matter, really; he didn’t plan on paying attention to the film and judging by the little check marks next to each movie, Chanyeol had seen them all anyways.

As the movie, which turned out to be some superhero ‘save the world’ type, progressed, Baekhyun noticed the temperature in the apartment dropping. He had purposefully come late at night, so it made sense for it to be colder, but it seemed like Chanyeol’s heater wasn’t even on at all, and Baekhyun couldn’t help but wonder if it was on purpose. He made a show of rubbing his hands up and down his arms, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

“Are you cold?” Baekhyun barely held back the smile at Chanyeol’s words. That sneaky devil. He had covered himself with the only blanket in the room, and while it was big enough to cover him easily, it was not long enough to stretch the length of the couch itself.

“Yeah.”

“I could… get you a blanket?” Baekhyun knew how this game was played; he could hear it in the other’s voice: the challenge, the dare to contest.

“Then you’d miss the movie.” It was a test, really, to see if Baekhyun was right, if he wasn’t just imagining the other’s intentions.

“Oh yeah. I could… pause it?” Chanyeol’s eyes never left him, and in them danced a playfulness, a risqué audacity. 

“That’s true but-” Baekhyun’s eyes flicked over to the remote sitting on the coffee table before them, and when he looked back at Chanyeol he saw that the other man’s gaze had found it as well. “I don’t know where the remote is. Do you?”

Chanyeol fought and lost against the smile that crept over his face, his voice quiet as he spoke. “No, I don’t know either. I guess we can’t pause it.”

“Well, then I mean, I guess our only option is to-”

“Share?” Chanyeol interrupted, his voice nonchalant. Damn, he was good. “This blanket is big enough for the both of us. What kind of host would I be if I made my guest sit in the cold?”

“And what kind of guest would I be if I made my host give up his blanket for me?”

“A pretty bad one.” He admitted. The two stared at each other in a brief moment of silence, and then Baekhyun pushed himself up onto his knees and crawled to the other side of the couch. Chanyeol opened the blanket s that he could get under it, and Baekhyun was immediately greeted with warmth and comfort. Settling back against Chanyeol’s chest, he let out a soft sigh, returning his attention to the movie. He could feel the other fumble as he adjusted to the new position, holding his hand in the air uncertainly before cautiously letting it settle on Baekhyun’s waist. He froze as it made contact, as if waiting for Baekhyun to react, and when he didn’t, relaxed back into the couch. Baekhyun could feel Chanyeol’s heart hammering against his back and his lips pulled into a small grin, proud to have such an effect on the other.

He missed this. He missed spending time with someone else, of feeling their body against his, even if he knew the catastrophe that was coming. He let his body mold to the space left by Chanyeol’s, closing his eyes and letting the sound of the movie drift into white noise. He mentally went through every inch of himself, cataloguing the warmth, the unexplainable feeling of safety and care that made him drowsy. 

And he supposed he must have fallen asleep like that, to the rhythm of Chanyeol’s heart against the backdrop of the movie, because when he next opened his eyes Chanyeol was no longer behind him and the sound of a shower running floated down the hallway. Baekhyun groaned, pushing himself to his feet and turning to squint at the oven clock. 11:03. Beside the clock, in the place where its predecessor had been, sat the coffee maker that Baekhyun had bought, shiny and proud. He approached it cautiously, unsure of whether it would be as satanic as the last one, but also with an ounce of pride. _He_ had bought it, and now it was displayed in Chanyeol’s home. In the corner of the counter, along with ripped envelopes and pieces of cardboard in what Baekhyun assumed was in impromptu recycling pile, sat a small booklet with a picture of the machine on the front, displaying the words OWNER’S MANUAL. Baekhyun hopped onto the counter lightly tapping his heels against the cupboards as he grabbed it and began to flip through its pages. It detailed precisely how the machine functioned, as well as things like how to clean it. Having nothing better to do while he waited, Baekhyun read through it all, slightly embarrassed at how much of a dumbass he had been.

He was halfway through all the drink options available when he heard the shower stop, followed by a minute of silence and then feet padding down the hallway. Chanyeol poked his head out of the hallway, first looking towards the couch and when he realized Baekhyun wasn’t there, turning to find the boy still sitting on the counter. 

“Oh.” Chanyeol adjusted the towel wrapped around his waist so that it was more secure, giving Baekhyun a slightly guilty look. He was still slightly damp, beads of water gathering on his collar bones and dripping from his hair, and fuck if Baekhyun didn’t want to be an incubus right now. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were awake. Were you waiting long?” Baekhyun shook his head. Chanyeol then seemed to notice the manual in his grasp, his face lighting up with a teasing grin. “You can keep that. Wouldn’t want you breaking another one.”

Baekhyun stuck his tongue out at the remark, but folded the pamphlet and stuck it into his pocket anyways. “I was just waiting for you to get out of the shower so you didn’t think I ran off or something.” He hopped off the counter and strided over to Chanyeol, reaching up and pressing his hands against the man’s still damp chest. Chanyeol jumped at the sudden cold touch, swatting Baekhyun’s hands away with a muttered “asshole” that held more playfulness than contempt. Baekhyun smirked, his hands instead falling to wrap around one of Chanyeol’s. “But I really should go.”

“What?” Chanyeol pouted down at the man, and Baekhyun could feel his insides clenching a little. It was odd, unlike anything Baekhyun had experienced before. Perhaps it was a building of potential energy? Or mere excitement at having someone want him around? “Where are you going?”

“Home.” Baekhyun smiled up at him. “I need to brush my teeth-”

“I have a toothbrush.”

“-and have a shower-”

“I have a shower.”

“-and change into clean clothes.”

“I have clothes.”

Baekhyun snorted. “I wouldn’t fit your clothes.” He let go of Chanyeol’s hand, noticing how the man tightened his grip for just a second before letting him go, and picked up his jacket from the couch. “I’m not leaving the country; we can hang out again whenever you want.”

“Well, actually…” Chanyeol ruffled his hair, sending small droplets of water flinging through the air, some landing and beading on the wall of the hallway. 

Baekhyun let out a laugh and was surprised to find it effortless, raw. “How soon?”

“It’s just that there is a special exhibit going on at the art gallery downtown.” The words were rushed, a transparent defense that Baekhyun pretended not realize was so. “It’s only on till Tuesday, but since I work that day, so I wanted to go sometime this weekend. But if that not’s your thing, I totally understand.”

“Nah, I’m down. As long as you promise not to get sick of me.” He meandered backwards towards the door, not wanting to leave but knowing he should. He didn’t need to rush thing any more than Chanyeol already was. He needed space to breathe, think, and for some reason he just couldn’t. Not around Chanyeol, not with the scent of countless mornings in the air, the wear of countless evenings aging the leather of the couch.

“Of you? Never.” Chanyeol was beginning to make a puddle on the floor, signalling it really was time to leave. He’d ruin the hardwood otherwise. “I’ll text you. How does Sunday sound? It gives you a day to decide if you actually hate me.”

Baekhyun pulled the door open and stepped through it, swinging it closed until he could just fit his head through. “It’s a date,” he laughed, and then he was gone, head and all, with only the click of the door to signal his absence.

~ ~ ~

He wasn’t quite sure when it happened. Chanyeol had this odd effect on time such that it seemed to move impossibly fast while simultaneously remaining at a standstill until Baekhyun could no longer tell seconds from hours and hours from the infinite that encompassed him with each instance that he found himself wrapped in Chanyeol’s arms.

Perhaps it was the Sunday they spent at the gallery, wandering between the exhibits in comfortable silence, their hands brushing ever so slightly more often than what could have been excused as accident. The exhibit that Chanyeol had been talking about, aptly named _Till Death Do Us Part_ , had been about animals that died in the mating process. There was a sculpture of a salmon made out of fish bones, a wall sized nylon web as an homage to spiders, and even a giant stained-glass mantis head. Needless to say, the whole thing made Baekhyun extremely uncomfortable, but he was at least made happy by Chanyeol’s _oohs_ and _ahhs_ as they moved to each new piece. 

Perhaps it was the trip to the museum two weeks later, skimming over the ancient artifacts and cultural history to spend most of their times looking at the dinosaur fossils and taxidermized animals. There had even been a volunteer doing a presentation on insects and arachnids, going over their evolution through history and bringing out a few live samples for any brave audience members to hold. Baekhyun had tried to hold a tarantula, but any time he got near, it would either run across the table or assuming a defense position, and even once tried jumping off the table itself, which would have been certain death had the handler not had fast enough reflexes to catch it. Its antics were nothing short than confusing for the volunteers, who had informed them that ‘Lolita’, the name of the wretched thing, was usually very calm and easy to handle. Baekhyun hadn’t offered to hold anything after that. They offered Chanyeol the opportunity, but the man jumped back a good few meters any time so much as a caterpillar got within five feet of him, so for both the safety of the animals and the sake of Chanyeol’s mental health, they eventually gave up.

Perhaps it was at the Christmas party that Baekhyun attended, at which he knew only Chanyeol but soon realized it didn’t matter as everyone got way more drunk than they should have and were all best friends with one another, him included, although the alcohol had no effect. He had managed to drag Chanyeol up to one of the spare bedrooms before the man passed out in the bed, waking only when Baekhyun arose from the mattress to mumble a “stay with me.”

Or perhaps it was the spaces in between their adventures; the quiet nights in, the morning coffee that Baekhyun eventually learned how to make, the heartbeats in the silence of night and the quiet embraces in the light of day. 

No, Baekhyun wasn’t sure when exactly it happened, he just knew that sometime in between all of that he found himself more comfortable in Chanyeol’s bed than his own, more at peace in his presence than in the solitary bubble he had become so used to. Sometime in between the touches that evolved into hand holding and the ‘accidental’ sleepovers that had evolved into whole weeks away from his own apartment, something had been seeded inside of Baekhyun and was beginning to sprout. Something sinister, insidious, something that Baekhyun refused to name for fear that he would speak it into existence. Something that, when Chanyeol had uttered the first “I love you” between the pair five months after their night in the club, Baekhyun said it back without hesitation, without caution, and most importantly, without fallacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was b l u s h i n g editing this I can't believe my hard stan ass would ever write smth so soft smh who am i  
> ALSO! I DON'T WANT ANYONE TO EVER SAY I AM A BAD FRIEND OKAY??I KILLED OFF MY OTP FOR THIS FIC. I K I L L E D... wait that would be a good sequel to this  
> 


	5. Sight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

Baekhyun toyed with a fray in his sweater sleeve, twisting and pulling the loose threads until they knotted together. He refused to raise his eyes from the picnic table, following the grain in the old wood with his gaze. He felt Jongin’s stare on him, silent and dark and threatening. The words Baekhyun had said sat in the air between them heavily, and he feared that if he looked up he would see a side of Jongin that he did not want to.

“Baekhyun.” His voice was surprisingly soft when he spoke, an almost empathetic quality held in its tresses. “You are not the first to feel what you are feeling. Many go through this stage, but you must be logical. You must not lose focus.”

“It’s not like I can help it.” He felt small underneath Jongin’s gaze, as he always did. Usually it wasn’t as uncomfortable, however, like it was now. 

“No, you cannot help the way you feel, but you are the one that decides your actions.” The wood bench creaked as Jongin shifted, leaning his elbows onto the table and steepling his fingers. “This human is not worth your turmoil. No human is. We are above them. They are out prey, and the moment you cease to see them as such is the moment you will begin your descent.”

“It’s not like I see them all differently, it’s just- I only- _ugh_.” He let his head fall to the table, breathing in the scent of the late spring’s humidity. “Just one. Can’t I have just one?”  
“Absolutely not.” Jongin’s voice was firm, inarguable. “You cannot have one, and you cannot be one. It is understandable to want what they have, be like them, but you cannot forget who you are, what you are. What has the human-”

“His name’s Chanyeol.”

“What has Chanyeol done that has made you like this? Surely you’ve encountered every sort of adoration throughout the years. Why is this time different?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head slightly, feeling the wood rub harshly against his cheek. “He makes me feel good. Better than anyone ever has.”

“Energy makes you feel good,” Jongin countered, “and it also keeps you alive. You can not feed on happy feelings. What you feel now may be strong, but it is temporary. The human-”

“Chanyeol.”

“-will age. He will die, whether you feed on him or not. You at least have the privilege of allowing him to live on without out once you’ve fed.”

“I couldn’t.” Baekhyun’s head popped up and he looked at Jongin for the first time since they had started speaking. He could not tell what lay behind the man’s eyes, and it unsettled him. “I _won’t_. I won’t do that to him, I won’t put him through it.”

Jongin scoffed. “There is no other option. By this point the hu- Chanyeol likely cares deeply for you.”

“What can I do, then?” Baekhyun couldn’t keep the plead form his voice. Jongin had always been his mentor, his guide. He had lived far longer, experienced ample more humans and lived many more lives. There must be a solution.

“Well,” Jongin shrugged, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “You can break up with him and feed on his energy, then move to the next victim and let your feelings for him fade. Or continue to be with him, but romance and feed off of others during the relationship. Or kill him and get over it.”

“None of those sound good.”

“I never said they would.”

“I don’t want to hurt him.”

“Then go with option two.”

“No, I couldn’t do that to him.” Baekhyun shook his head fervently. The thought alone made him sick to his stomach. Chanyeol, who trusted him so deeply, so cared for him, who would never act in a way that disrespected him, did not deserve it. He didn’t deserve the mess Baekhyun had made. “You don’t understand what it’s like. I couldn’t hurt him, I couldn’t do that to him, even if he didn’t know about it.”

“I don’t understand?” Jongin’s eyes narrowed, his mouth twisting slightly. “I don’t understand?” He repeated. “Baekhyun, I _killed_ the love of my life so he wouldn’t be hurt by the hands of others. I watched him die in my arms if only to avoid the torture he would have had to live through. Do not tell me I don’t understand. I was once in your position. I made a choice, and now I live with it. It is your turn now. You will have to choose how you want to hurt your human; you must decide how much pain you want to burden to spare him, how much suffering you can bare for his protection. But make no mistake, the result will be the same.” Jongin rose from the table, grabbing Baekhyun’s barely touched coffee and putting it in his own empty cup to be disposed of. “We do not get happy endings.” 

~ ~ ~

Baekhyun’s phone buzzed, singing out the default ringtone from the foot of his bed. He could feel the vibrations through the mattress, but did not move to pick it up, instead continuing to stare at the ceiling as he had been for the past hour. He felt gross. His hair was in dire need of a wash, his body in need of a shower, and his teeth in need of a brush, but he did none of these things. Instead, he continued to lay in bed, as he had done the past two weeks.

The phone stopped after four repeats of its ringtone, going silent once more. It was no doubt Chanyeol, adding to the dozens of missed calls and texts. He supposed he would have to answer eventually, at least more than the ‘busy’ he had been repeating for the past week after Chanyeol threatened to call the police to make sure Baekhyun wasn’t dead in his apartment. But he didn’t yet know what to say to the man. Jongin’s words had been rolling over in his mind, and the truth behind them was painful. Baekhyun didn’t want to face it, not yet. He didn’t want to make the decision he knew he had to make, didn’t want to admit defeat. He had been foolish, and he supposed now was the time he had to pay for the happiness he had been loaned.

His phone rang again a half hour later, and this time he picked it up. “Hello?

“Baekhyun!” Chanyeol’s voice sounded both angry and relieved. “What the hell? Why weren’t you answering?”

“I’ve been busy.” He didn’t let his emotions show in his voice, didn’t dare admit how nice it was to hear Chanyeol’s voice again.

“With what? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for the past week.”

“Stuff.”

“Did something happen? What could be taking up so much of your time that you can’t even text? I’ve been worried sick.” He could imagine Chanyeol pacing his apartment, his hands pulling at the threads of his sweater like they always did when he was thinking or anxious.

“Nothing happened.”

“Then why haven’t you answered me?” There was a slight crack in Chanyeol’s voice, and it tore Baekhyun to pieces. He swallowed, clearing his throat slightly to make sure his own voice was steady before continuing.

“Like I said, busy.”

“Baekhyun, I-” He paused, catching the break in his throat and taking a minute to compose himself. “Can you come over? I want to talk face to face.”

And there was nothing Baekhyun wanted more than to see Chanyeol’s face again, but he feared what he would find, feared having to explain himself. He did not want to make the choice just yet. He needed more time. “Yeah.”

Baekhyun felt more than heard the sigh of relief from the other end, and they were both quiet for a minute, neither knowing what to say.

“Okay.” It was Chanyeol that broke the silence, his voice barely loud enough to come through the speakers. “See you soon, then?”

“Yeah.,” Baekhyun agreed, and hung up before the other could say anything else. He knew he had to face Chanyeol eventually, but he wasn’t yet sure how. It was unfair to make Chanyeol wait, but then again, it was unfair for him to have been put in the situation to begin with. He didn’t deserve Baekhyun, nor the inevitable end that came with him. He deserved a happy ending, and Baekhyun was no longer sure he would be able to give it to him.

~ ~ ~

“Explain yourself.” Chanyeol’s eyes bore into him from across his coffee table, arms crossed. He had pulled a chair up across from the couch, and Baekhyun had no choice but to look in his direction.

“What am I supposed to say?” He shrugged, trying to act like simply being in Chanyeol’s apartment once more wasn’t tearing him to pieces. He felt sick, and wanted nothing more to spend another two weeks in his bed to figure out his thoughts and try to think of a solution to the problem he had created.

Chanyeol scoffed in disbelief. “What are you supposed to say?” he echoed, voice scornful. “You haven’t returned any of my calls or texts in two weeks! You just… disappeared. I don’t understand why. Did I do something, did I say something?”

“No, I just…” A sigh fell from his lips as he trailed off, eyes falling to the coffee table, unable to bear the pain in Chanyeol’s face. “I needed time. Space. I needed to think about- about us.”

“Us?” The word sent a small ping through Baekhyun, a faint wave of energy. Fuck, this wasn’t supposed to happen. He didn’t want to hurt Chanyeol, he had been searching for a way, any way, to avoid it. “I… don’t understand. Are you not happy?” Chanyeol’s voice broke, and now Baekhyun knew he couldn’t look up, couldn’t bear to see the tears that were likely brimming in Chanyeol’s eyes. “Baekhyun, are you cheating on me?”

“No!” The exclamation startled them both. Baekhyun wrinkled his nose, took a breath, and tried again. “No, I would never.”

“Then what? Why?”

“I just- I’m trying-” he sighed. “I want you to be happy.”

“I _am_ happy. With you.”

“No.” Baekhyun shook his head. His throat burned, lungs shrivelling in his chest. He hated Chanyeol. No, he hated how much he loved Chanyeol, and that was worse. That hurt more. “I can’t make you happy.

“You’re not making any sense. Please, I care about you. I love you. Please just tell me what’s going on.”

Baekhyun flinched back at the words, echoing heavily in the space between them. Chanyeol had told him he loved him many times before, but this time it was different. This time it was a plea, a beg, a last resort. Baekhyun said nothing, Jongin’s voice ringing through his mind. He had given him three options. But there had to be more, had to be a fourth. Baekhyun had spent two weeks trying to find it, trying to find any way that would spare Chanyeol, even if Baekhyun had sacrificed himself. And he hadn’t been able to, not until this moment, with the _I love you_ still ringing in his ears. Because Chanyeol _did_ love him. And that was the problem. That was why Baekhyun couldn’t let go. He couldn’t bear to break Chanyeol’s heart, even if every fibre of his being was programmed to do so. Jongin had told him that they didn’t get happy endings. He was right. But that didn’t mean Chanyeol had to suffer with him. He was human. He deserved better than Baekhyun and the inevitability tied to him. Chanyeol deserved a happy ending, even if it didn’t have Baekhyun in it. 

The fourth option. It materialized in Baekhyun’s head. He wasn’t even sure if he could do it, wasn’t sure he knew how. There was no proof that it was even possible, nothing to go on except rumors. Rumors of incubi twisting desire into disgust, of sombers twisting depression into hope. Rumors that were foolish enough to wave off as falsities. But Baekhyun had to try. He searched inside himself, feeling the energy within him, feeling the ichor flowing through his body, latching onto it and pulling it forward. He could feel it tingle in his fingertips, skitter across his skin. He had used it many times before, but this time it was different. This time he twisted it, turning it upside down, inside out, blackening it, scorching it. His hands shook at the effort, nails digging into his palms. The ichor fought him, fought to remain in its natural state, but he was stronger. He had to be. 

Baekhyun felt it give in, thickening into a viscous, unnatural soup inside him, dark and insidious. Was this right? There was no way of telling. All he could do was try, and try he did, sending out waves of his newfound dark energy to Chanyeol, all he had, until he was left empty, gagging and choking for air at the recoil of lost energy.

Baekhyun collapsed forward, bracing his hands on his knees and taking deep breaths. His vision swam, ears ringing as he tried to recenter his thoughts. The temperature seemed to drop suddenly, goosebumps breaking out across his arms. _Fuck_ , that hurt. Clenching his teeth, if only to stop their chattering, he looked up at Chanyeol, curious to see if what he had done had had any effect. The man was watching him silently, the only tell of emotion on his face a slight wrinkle between his brows.

“Chan-”

“You really don’t give a shit about me, do you?” The words hit Baekhyun like a train. He opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, trying and failing to find words to respond to the sudden accusation. It didn’t matter; Chanyeol was not finished talking. “You just pop in and out of my life as you want to, no regard for what I’m feeling, no regard for my schedule. You’re so fucking selfish.” Baekhyun supposed it was a good sign that Chanyeol was saying these things to him, but while he knew it was really the ichor talking, it did not prevent the stab of pain he felt at the words, tears welling in his eyes. One slipped down his cheek, and he wiped it away quickly, but not quickly enough. “Look at yourself. Crying. Always making it about you. Pathetic.”

“Wait, Chanyeol.” Baekhyun reached out but the main recoiled, standing from his chair and taking steps back, away from him. 

“What? Are you going to explain yourself? Are you going to ask for another chance, as if you deserve one? What the fuck is it, Baekhyun?”

Each question was a bullet through his chest. Each word, spat with venom, burned at the edges of his wounds. Baekhyun couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. All he could focus on was the ache, the hollow echo in the space where his energy had been. He shook his head, this time not caring as another tear made a stream down to his jawline.

“That’s what I thought. Get out.” Baekhyun could see the change in Chanyeol. He could see it in his eyes, his stance, each hardening towards him, each stiff and unwelcoming. Any ounce of kindness, any remnant of care had vanished from the man’s eyes, courtesy of Baekhyun. Good. It was better this way, even if it hurt. Baekhyun rose to his feet, swaying as he fought off the black pulsing at the edge of his vision. Without a word, he grabbed his jacket, lurching toward the door and barely managing to keep himself from looking back. He stepped into the cool hallway, the light from Chanyeol’s apartment creating a puddle around his feet for just a moment, and then Baekhyun pulled the door closed behind him, shutting off Chanyeol and the future they could have had together.

~ ~ ~

Baekhyun’s apartment was cold, empty. He fell through the door, collapsing onto his knees and letting a sob tear from his chest. He had just barely managed to hold it in during the bus ride home, his jaw sore with the effort of holding back any whimpers that would alert his fellow transit passengers. He kicked the door closed with his foot, not bothering to lock it, and curled up on the floor, his body shuddering. 

It was not the expelling of energy that had him in such a way. No, the recoil of that had faded, now it was something more sinister. It was an ache in his chest, deep and fiery, gnawing at the inside of his lungs as he bawled, unable to stop himself, unable to control his rattling limbs and quick, uneven breaths. It was a hot coal in his throat, sizzling down into his gut, burning him from the inside out, spreading through his veins until each cell was ablaze. It was the smell of blood as he clawed at his chest in desperation, trying to reach the torturous agony that had settled there, to tear it from his body if only so it would leave him numb. It was the echo of his voice in the still, dark apartment, broken, hoarse, unable to form words yet still begging, begging for something, anything, that would ease his torment. It was heartbreak, pure and raw, and it was something that Baekhyun never thought he would have to face.


	6. Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!! This chapter has elements that might make some readers uncomfortable !!!! If you are concerned in any way, please contact me on twitter @etherimaginary so I can outline the contents of this chapter. I don't want to put any warnings here because I don't want to spoil anything for the rest of my readers uwu
> 
> Can you believe this is already over? It seems like it went by so fast ;_; There are parts of this chapter that I wish I had written better to be honest, but its exam season and I don't have the time or mental stability to do so. Oh well

Baekhyun sat in the coffee shop, picking half-heartedly at the pastry he had chosen at random from the front counter. The crumbs stuck to the thick sweater he had on, a garment which had earned him many odd looks, out of place in the almost-summer heat. It didn’t matter, he still felt so cold. No matter how many layers he put on his frail hands still shook, the slightest of breezes summoning an archipelago of goosebumps across his body. He felt fucking awful, and he knew he looked it too. Each morning glance in the mirror greeted him with dark purple bags under his eyes, his skin becoming pale and sickly. His cheeks had lost their one endearing chubbiness and now clung harshly to the bones that lay underneath.

He supposed that’s just what a month of running on empty did to a person. 

A bus pulled to a stop across the street in front of the hospital, a handful of people stepping off into the warm evening air. Baekhyun’s eyes scanned the crowd, picking out the familiar form of Chanyeol all too quickly. It was routine by this point. Baekhyun would watch him walk from the bus stop into the main lobby, and then watch him make the return trip hours later. He had memorized his shifts by now, and he supposed he would have to admit to himself that he had a problem at some point, but it was easier to live in happy denial than the painful reality that was inching closer with every passing day, threatening to consume him. 

Chanyeol looked happy. He always did. How could he not, now that Baekhyun had cut himself out of his life? This was the life he deserved, this was the ending he should have, without sadness, without heartbreak, without Baekhyun.

A few minutes passed before Baekhyun worked up the will to get up from his seat. He took a steadying breath, bracing his hands on the table and pushing himself into a standing position. His vision swam with black spots, a dark fog creeping along the edges. As expected. Getting up from bed was worse, but even now he swayed, trying to fight the bubbles in his mind, the vertigo taking over his body. His vision cleared slightly, just enough to see an elderly couple a few tables over watching him with concern, and he realized how stupid he must look, standing at a table, rocking back and forth and blinking rapidly. He tried to walk out, to show that he was fine, but it proved to be a mistake. He stumbled, barely catching himself on a table, the sudden movement sending a cascade of sparks across his vision, his mind clogged with a thick opaque sludge.

“Are you okay, son?” He felt a hand on his shoulder, heard a voice speak to him, but it felt far off, as if he was hearing it from underwater, liquid filling his ears and muffling everything.

“’M fine,” he muttered, but couldn’t be sure if he had said it aloud or only thought it. He pushed himself off the table, shrugged the hand off his shoulder, and took one, two steps towards the door before he collapsed, his knees giving out and body crashing to the ground. A chorus of voices filtered through the fog in his mind, and his eyes fluttered open briefly to see a crowd of people standing over him. A man, a stranger, knelt beside him, hands on either of Baekhyun’s shoulders and shaking him lightly. His lips moved but Baekhyun could not hear the words they formed around, could not feel his hands on his skin as they attempted to hold him up. He was cold, so cold, and he no longer had the energy to quell his shivers, letting his body tremble. He was tired. Tired of fighting, tired of battling the dark that gnawed on his skin and seeped into his mind. The voices became louder briefly as he let his body succumb to the cold, going limp, and then everything faded away, and he submerged into the depths of the dark, a sleepy, contented sigh falling from his lips.

~ ~ ~

Bright lights painted a peach canvas across Baekhyun’s vision. He remained still, not yet ready to face the outside world and instead taking inventory of his body. He was numbed, exhausted, drained. He felt like shit. Nothing new there. But he did feel the slightest bit warmer, the tiniest bit more energized, and it sparked a curiosity within him enough that he dared to crack his eyes open. They were greeted with blinding fluorescent light, the kind only found in supermarkets and hospitals. A constant beep and the feeling of starched sheets on his skin confirmed the latter. Memories of the café pushed through the fog, which explained his being in such an unfamiliar place, but did not explain the improvement of how shitty he felt, even if it was by the slightest amount. Only one thing could have done that.

“You’re awake.” The voice sounded from beside the bed. Baekhyun let his head flop to the side, his heart swelling at the sight that greeted him enough to that the beginnings of tears pricked in his eyes. Chanyeol sat in a chair beside him, dressed in his nurse uniform. His face was cold, but Baekhyun could see something trapped in his eyes. Worry? Pity? He wasn’t sure. “You look like shit.”

Baekhyun snorted. “Thanks.”

“They can’t figure out what’s wrong with you.” Chanyeol ignore him, his voice, as expected, holding no emotion. Good. It was better that way. Still, Baekhyun knew, he knew that beneath the calm facade Chanyeol was a mess of unresolved emotions and unanswered questions. Chanyeol was still hurting, if even a little, and that pain was the source of energy that allowed Baekhyun to wake up, that warmed his cold, cold body. Even if it made him feel better, it was something that Baekhyun had been fighting to avoid. He didn’t want Chanyeol to ache over him, yet here he was anyways. How had he fucked up so bad? "They've taken x-rays, blood samples, the works but..." Chanyeol trailed off, hopelessness in his voice. He cared, but not the way he used to. He extended towards Baekhyun the same concern that he used on all his patients, wanting to see them get better but keeping his emotional distance in case they didn’t. 

Baekhyun sighed. "Yeah, that shit wont work on me." He pushed himself into sitting position, wincing as something wriggled in his hand. He looked down to see an iv stuck from his skin.

"What do you mean?" Chanyeol watched as he reached down to his hand, peeling off the medical tape that held the needle in place. "No, Baek, don't touch-" he reached forward to stop him but was waved off, Baekhyun pulling the needle from his skin and placing it on the bedside table.

"You can pump whatever you want into me, it won’t make me better." He breathed in deeply, feeling the air catch on his throat, stick in his lungs.

"Enough of these fucking riddles, Baekhyun." Chanyeol grabbed the rails of the bed tightly, leaning forward with desperation in his eyes. "Always- you always were so secretive, you never let me in."

"I couldn't." Baekhyun's voice was small.

"Why not? Why not for me?" Baekhyun felt a small wave of energy come off the boy, soaking into his skin. It felt good, the brief sip of water after such a long fast, but it was not worth it, not worth hurting Chanyeol for. "I could have loved you. I _did_ love you. All I wanted was the same in return."

"That's _why_ I left. That's _why_ I couldn't tell you. Because I did too, and I'd be damned if you ended up hurt because of me." The first tear slipped from his eye, pearling down his cheek only to pool at his jaw. "It's my fault. It’s- I never meant to fall in love." He felt another wave of energy from Chanyeol, needed but unwanted. Baekhyun took a deep breath, trying to ground himself back in his body. This was not about him. This was about Chanyeol, about saving him from his greatest threat. "I'm sick, Yeol. And there isn't a hospital on this damn planet that can make me better."

"Bullshit." Chanyeol slammed his hands against the bed. “You left me. No justification, no reason, nothing. How the fuck can you explain that?”

Letting his voice raise, Baekhyun send what little ichor he had left back at the man, not enough to root hatred as before, but enough that he cared less. It was a butterfly kiss on a stab wound, but it was all Baekhyun had. "I left for you. I left because I knew I wouldn't be able to stand seeing you get hurt because of me."

"You don't have to be alone in this, Baekhyun."

"Yes, I do. You- you have no idea what I've gone through, what I _am_ going through."

"That's because you won’t fucking tell me!" The outburst startled them both. Chanyeol pushed himself off the bed, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. One hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose, the other clutching onto his sweater like it was the only thing keeping him sane. Baekhyun said nothing, swallowing the emotions that had come up to claw at his throat. "Baek I-I want to help you. I really do. I just don't know what to do anymore. I've tried everything but you still push me away."

"If you really want to help," Baekhyun winced at how broken he sounded, how his voice cracked and wavered behind its mask of bitter apathy, "Forget about me. Just walk out of this room and don't look back. Don't make it harder for either of us."

"Baek." Chanyeol reached out for him, but he pulled away, refusing to meet his eyes. His fists clenched on his lap, eyes boring into the hospital band they had wrapped around his wrist.

And Baekhyun thought back to their last night together, sickened at having to go through it again, and he found Chanyeol’s own words on his tongue, mimicking their malice. "Get out."

There was a moment of silence as Chanyeol stared at him, and then he rose, walking out of the room without another word, shutting the door behind him and closing off the space between them for what Baekhyun knew would be the last.

~ ~ ~

Baekhyun had stolen a car. Never in his life had he stolen a car, yet here he was, parking it as far into the forest as the path would allow. Well, technically he didn’t park it; the wheels had gotten caught on the uneven ground, spinning against the mulch and dirt helplessly. He figured that was a good enough signal that it was time to stop. He’d have to walk the rest of the way. He turned off the ignition, listening to the engine sputter out and leaving the forest silent, save for the rustle of creatures in the underbrush and the swish of wind tickled branches rubbing up against one another. He stepped out into the forest, breathing in the sweet scent of decay and earth. His vision swam slightly, but it was nothing he hadn’t already felt. He had a mission, and he’d be damned if he passed out before he completed it. Well, more damned than he already was, at least. 

He had never been to this forest, never stepped foot on the mountain that housed it. He had no true idea where he was going, his direction based purely on feeling. There was a nagging in his brain, a tightening in his chest that screamed at him to turn around, to run. That meant he was headed in the right direction. Despite his intent, the forest still unsettled him, its silence like a predator waiting to pounce. Baekhyun pulled his phone from his pocket, desperate for some sort of distraction, and dialed Jongin’s number.

“Hello, Baekhyun.” His voice alone was comforting. Jongin had always been there for him, always looked out for him. He was the one constant in Baekhyun’s life, the one thing he could truly count on.

“Hey. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“Not at all.” The response made Baekhyun smile. He could have caught Jongin at the worst of times and the answer would have been the same. “But you sound very crackly. Where are you?”

“Oh, I’m on a mountain. My cell reception is probably shit.” He figured there was no point in lying. He owed Jongin the honesty.

“Language,” Jongin chided, but didn’t bother to wait for Baekhyun to correct himself. “Wait, did you say a mountain? What on earth are you doing on a mountain?”

“I’m… meeting someone here.” He didn’t yet want to admit his purpose, guilt forcing him to brush it under the rug for as long as possible.

“Who?” Jongin was never one for abstracts.

“The fourth option.”

“The what?” There was confusion in Jongin’s voice, but also slight worry. Baekhyun wondered if calling him was a mistake, but he figured the man had the right to know.

“Remember, you said I had three options when it came to Chanyeol? I found a fourth.”

“Baekhyun.” Now the worry was obvious, Jongin’s voice becoming rushed, its usually calm surface rippling. “Where are you? What are you doing?”

“I wanted you to know.” Baekhyun spoke as if he hadn’t heard Jongin’s questions. As much as he feared it, he couldn’t deny it felt good to speak his situation aloud, to get it off his chest. “I didn’t want you to think I just… disappeared, that I left you. You know I never would, right? I respect you too much for that, hell I love you too much for that.”

“Stop.” The command was delivered with enough force that Baekhyun’s feet paused momentarily before resuming their crunch over the fallen leaves and twigs. “I think we should discuss this face to face.”

“No.” Baekhyun couldn’t remember the last time he had said no to Jongin. It felt awful. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“You’re worrying me.” Jongin’s voice crackled over the earpiece, and Baekhyun wondered how much farther he could walk before the connection broke. “Baekhyun, please do not make any rash decisions. Is this because of Chanyeol? I will help you figure something out. We can find another way.”

“There is no other way.” The words were a whisper, and for a moment Baekhyun thought Jongin hadn’t heard him.

“Baekhyun-”

“I don’t have time to find another love even if I wanted to. I did not call for you to try and persuade me otherwise.”

“Why did you call, then?” Jongin questioned, but seemed to already know the answer. “To say goodbye.”

Baekhyun was silent for a moment. He could not escape what he was. No matter what, he would always hurt someone, and he had simply switched out Chanyeol for Jongin. “I’m sorry.”

“You do not know what awaits you if you go through with this.” Jongin sounded broken, and it unsettled Baekhyun. The man had always been sure, remorseless, consistently unfazed, but now he seemed helpless, small. It was not a good look. “Come back. I can sustain you until you are more mentally stable. Please, Baekhyun, I’m begging you.”

Jongin did not beg. Jongin was proud and strong and independent. And perhaps it was the shattering of that mold that finally allowed the tears to fall from Baekhyun’s eyes, the realization of just how much he would be hurting the other. But he was tired, and he was done with living off others pain. “Goodbye, Jongin. No matter what awaits me, I will not forget you and all that you’ve done for me.”

There was a crackle as the man tried to reply, but the weak reception that Baekhyun’s phone had been feeding off finally fizzled out, and his words were lost. Baekhyun let the phone fall from his hands to the forest floor. He wouldn’t be needing it anymore. He felt both better and worse after talking with Jongin, and the emotions stirred a hurricane in his gut, dragging sobs from his throat that he didn’t bother to stifle. He was tired of hurting, and tired of hurting others. He was the embodiment of pain, the manifestation of evil. He deserved this.

He lumbered into a clearing in a seemingly random patch of forest, stopping to take in the sights around him. It was not a natural clearing; the stumps of gnawed off trees edged the parameter, snarled roots sticking up from where smaller ones had been torn right out of the ground. The blackened leaflitter that carpeted the space was scattered with bones, sun bleached to a pale, chilling white. Baekhyun felt hollowed at the sight, the reality of the situation sinking in, every inch of his body screaming at him to run. He stood there for minutes, barely daring to breathe, scared to make a single sound. His legs tingled with adrenaline, hands shaking incessantly. After a few minutes more, he began to wonder if this site was abandoned, if the feeling in his gut had lead him astray, but then there was a shift in the atmosphere, a rustle in the underbrush, and a creature lumbered into view.

The Ancient was everything Baekhyun had imagined and more. Black skin was stretched over the sharp bones of its elongated, skeletal face, dagger teeth dripping with drool as it snapped at the air, taking in Baekhyun’s scent. Two long, slender ears curved from its head, their tips curling towards one another, twitching at the sound of Baekhyun’s breathing. Its chest heaved as it inhaled, ribs seeming to nearly break through its skin, spin rolling under the thin flesh as it arched its back. It took a step towards him on spindly legs that rose up above its body and then down to the ground, the fingers on one of its hands wrapping around the stump of a tree, claws digging into the dark. A long, thin tail swept out behind it, curling in the air and wrapping around a thin lower branch of a tree. It must have sensed him here, smelled him perhaps. It was only once one of its small, black eyes landed on Baekhyun that it let out a shriek, scampering forward before stopping a few feet in front of the man, stretching its hideous head forward to inhale his scent deeply.

It was safe to say that Baekhyun nearly pissed himself. He was petrified in terror, body shaking uncontrollably, tears of fear streaming silently down his face. All thoughts of Chanyeol and Jongin were bleached from his mind; the only thing he could think about was the face of death staring him down. It could no doubt sense his energy; even drained as he was, it was likely far more than the creature had encountered in the past few decades. Still, it watched him, as if waiting to see what he would do, and in that moment Baekhyun realized that he no longer could decide the outcome, he could no longer turn back. The thought calmed him, somehow, the loss of control, the onset of inevitability, and Baekhyun took a deep breath before sinking to his knees under the watchful eye of the Ancient.

“Please,” he whispered, not even sure if it could understand him, but not caring either way. It made a guttural barking sound back at him, taking another step forward. “Please,” he repeated, “I’m done. I don’t want to hurt anymore. I can’t take it.” He let his eyes slip closed, letting himself simply feel, as he had done in his first few minutes on Earth. He felt the tears slip down his cheek and drip off of his chin, he felt the sinking of the earth as the ancient shifting its weight off of one gnarled hand, felt the hand grasp him, pull forward, then felt its long teeth sink deep into his shoulder, forcing him to bite back a scream.

The Ancient grabbed him between two of its hands, lifting him into the air as it tore out a chunk of flesh, tendon, bone. The taste of blood seemed to spur it on, and it leaned in once more, sending a wave of pain through Baekhyun. He opened his eyes for a moment, gasping in pain, and saw that his left arm was no longer there; in its place was a gory mess of what used to be his shoulder and chest, blood dripping into the cavity that he realized was his lung. 

As the blood drained from him onto the soiled ground, he felt himself sinking deeper and deeper into a black unconsciousness. His sight went first, blurring and darkening until he could see nothing, then his smell, taste, until he could only hear the crunch of his bones between the Ancient’s teeth and the wet tearing sound of his own flesh, until he could feel nothing but pain and the occasional tug as a set of claws dug around his torso and ripped out one organ after another, the remaining intestines flopping to the ground with a squelch. And even that, too, faded, and he felt himself slipping from what little remained of his human body, sinking into the Earth, sinking into the deep as the small amount of remaining energy he had was sucked out of his body.

He remembered this. He remembered the lack of sense, the non-existing feelings of the nether. But this was different. He felt himself sinking deeper than he had been, and there was no storm surrounding him, no fight for energy. This was different. This was further, deeper, colder. This was not the nether. This was death.

And it was all that he deserved. 

There was nothing more for him. With the small traces of consciousness that he retained, Baekhyun conjured up an image of Chanyeol in his head, remembering how he laughed, how he smiled, how he loved, remembering how good it felt to be in his arms, how safe. And Baekhyun would do it all again, if he had the chance. He would endure it all, just to love and be loved, because although Baekhyun had existed on Earth for decades, he had not truly lived. He had heard Earth’s choirs, touched her soil. He had tasted her life, smelled her air and seen her beauty, but he had not truly felt. Not until he loved. And he supposed that was all he could ask for, and all he could bear. It was enough, it was worth dying for.

_Chanyeol._

_I love you._

_I always will._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... listen.... in my defense anyone who has read some of my other works would have seen this coming. I won't say which words because if I have somehow managed to grab a few new readers I wouldn't want to spoil any of the other fics, but I mean its not as if major character death is a new thing I'm trying out lmao.
> 
> Annnyyyywayyyyss I really hope you all enjoyed this!! I know some of you might want me dead in a ditch for the ending, but hey thats showbiz baby
> 
> In regards to future works!!!!!!!  
> -I still have that BTS Zombie!au that I wrote like 8k of and then forgot at home  
> -If it tickles my fancy I might write a prequel to this??? Like of Kaisoo's love story??? Let me know if that is something you would be interested in  
> -I also might take a break for writing fiction because I've been lowkey been wanting to write a paper on subatomic particles remnant of the big bang and how they relate to the universal expansion theory (which is hugely nerdy of me I know shut up I love space)  
> -Also also!!! I am always open to hearing fic ideas that you guys might have!!! remember, this fic was entirely based on Aditi's fic fantasy! (save for the whole dying thing lmao)


End file.
